


King In Your Story

by boughofawillowtree



Series: Repossession Recovery [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Repossession - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Bad negotiation, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Dissociation, Flashbacks, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Exchange, Rape Recovery, Repossession, Scene Gone Wrong, Trauma, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 20:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boughofawillowtree/pseuds/boughofawillowtree
Summary: Crowley is working to recover from the trauma of his captivity in Heaven, but triggers and flashbacks continue to haunt him. After a wrong move in bed sends him reeling, Aziraphale suggests that they try a bit of D/s play with Crowley as the dominant, to try and help him reclaim some power. It doesn't go well.This is a fic of a fic! It's based on Repossession by @dreamsofspike. It takes places between the end of Repossession and the epilogue. It came out of a conversation between me and @dreamsofspike about whether D/s play would ever be possible for Aziraphale and Crowley after the events of Repossession, and what it might look like if they tried.[Please read the author's notes too, they're important!]





	King In Your Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Repossession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710115) by [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike). 

It had been a nice evening, Aziraphale thought. They were having more and more of those, these days. He knew there was still a tough road ahead for Crowley, and for both of them, but he was grateful that it seemed to be smoothing out.

They ate dinner in the apartment, Aziraphale enjoying a nice roast while Crowley finished up the wine he had braised it in. And now they were in bed, having retired early to spend the dusky hours in each other’s arms.

Aziraphale had been pleasantly surprised when Crowley lifted his shirt to kiss and nuzzle his way across Aziraphale’s stomach. He had been letting Crowley set the pace with all things physical, and it delighted Aziraphale to see that his demon was feeling more and more comfortable with that kind of intimacy, and the vulnerability it brought.

“Mmmm...” Aziraphale made a noise that signaled pleasure and assent in equal measures and let himself melt under Crowley’s touch. Soon his shirt was off, and Crowley had one hand in the angel’s hair and the other down his pants, teasing and stroking.

“Ah,” Aziraphale moaned, reaching up to caress Crowley’s still-clothed shoulders and toy with the buttons on his collar. “This alright?”

“Of course,” Crowley breathed, leaning in more closely so Aziraphale could undress him.

Aziraphale got two buttons undone before he was thoroughly distracted by a feathery, tickling touch just below his balls. It startled him, and he jerked a bit under Crowley’s deft fingers.

Crowley seemed spurred on by the response, and continued to lightly tease at the spot he’d just discovered. Aziraphale liked it, but it was a new feeling. And rather intense. 

He was just about to say something to Crowley about how sensitive that area was turning out to be when some tiny nerve ending, unattended to for over six thousand years, flared into consciousness and an electric spark rang through Aziraphale, surprising and overwhelming. 

In an instant his hand flew down and grabbed Crowley’s wrist, a quick startled impulse. He was about to explain when he saw Crowley’s face, stricken and pale.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said, his body stiff, one hand clenched tightly around his arm where Aziraphale had touched him. He looked to be trembling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright, love, it was nothing, really. Just a tickle.”

Crowley shook his head, a tiny, birdlike movement, cradling his wrist as if it had been injured.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I’m very sorry. Come here, let me see."

He reached out for Crowley. Crowley, wide-eyed and frantic, darted for the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

***

It had been a nice evening, Crowley thought. He liked the way things were these days, for the most part. It was getting easier, being here. Being with Aziraphale.

Sure, he didn’t always feel safe. And sure, sometimes found himself picking fights, just for a reason to be angry, and afterwards he hated himself for it, and just wanted to fall into a sulking sleep for a few decades.

But it was nice, other times. Tonight was one of those times. They had sat together over dinner, chatting about the inanities of the day, and now they were in bed. Crowley felt emboldened by the wine and the general niceness of the day, and there was Aziraphale, safe and warm and real.

He wouldn’t let those tremors of fear that rumbled in the back of his mind take this away from him. No matter how exposed it made him feel, how unworthy he felt to experience such tenderness.  _ This is how it’s supposed to be _ , he told himself, internally repeating Aziraphale’s words, which he was fighting to believe.  _ You can feel things besides pain. You can have this. It’s okay.  _

Focusing on Aziraphale helped. Crowley did his best to lose himself in the folds of Aziraphale’s body, in the sweet powdery scent of him. He loved the sounds Aziraphale made when he peppered light kisses down his skin, and he loved the way his fingers seemed made for the delicate art of drawing new exquisite sounds from his angel. So when he grazed a spot between his legs and heard a new little noise, he kept exploring. 

He continued to rub and stroke, marveling at how Aziraphale moved under him, noticing the shivers and the sharp breaths. He would keep a light touch, be gentle, as he explored -

then there was a hand on his wrist, grabbing, holding - and it all crashed in on him -

_ oh no oh no no no - Big mistake, sweetheart - you fucked up you knew better - What did I tell you about those hands? - i tried i tried it hurts too much it’s too hard it’s not fair - I’ll teach you to listen - please no please please don’t please i’ll be good - This should help you learn - _

and then the twisting -  _ too much too much stop please stop _ \- and the pain cracking up his arm -  _ no i’m sorry please no more i’m sorry _ \- 

and there was Aziraphale -  _ Angel? Master? who hurt me he hurt me you hurt me who hurt me no no no this is all wrong _ -

and Aziraphale was talking, and now he was saying something -  _ i’m sorry i’m sorry no no no shut up and listen who is speaking who is there i’m sorry _ \- there were hands reaching for him -

and then he was in the bathroom.

The door shut behind him with a bang that jolted him back into himself, as much as the wreckage he was inhabiting could be considered a self at that moment. Crowley had no idea how he had gotten there. He was gripping his wrist so tightly the skin around his fingertips was turning white. 

Slowly, he eased up, letting go and rubbing the spot with his knuckles. It was a strange sensation, the pressure underlaid by the phantom pain.

Crowley held his arm under the tap, running the water as cold as he could get it. His skin was unbroken, entirely free of marks. No bruises. No swelling. 

_ Stupid, _ he admonished himself.  _ You’re fine, you’re fine. _

What had Aziraphale even done? Barely touched him. And here he was, acting like he was being tortured all over again.

_ What is wrong with you? _

***

Aziraphale was all set to pretend none of it had happened. That seemed to be Crowley’s preference after something like that. Flashbacks, they were called. Aziraphale had been reading up on them. He’d been reading a lot lately, about things called “trauma” and “triggers” and “deprogramming.” Even though some it didn’t really apply to an immortal being, he was learning plenty of helpful information about how to help his beloved demon start to heal.

He did wish Crowley was willing to read some of the books, too - there were even exercises one could do! - but he wasn’t ready. And that was okay.

As it turned out, he didn't have to pretend anything. Early the next morning, Crowley wandered over to where Aziraphale was sitting near the window with a cup of tea and said “Sorry about last night, angel."

Aziraphale put down his cup of tea and tried to hide how happy he was that Crowley was acknowledging it. “Nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Completely understandable.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” He dropped himself into the seat next to Aziraphale, one leg hooked over the arm, and watched two teenagers giggle under an umbrella as they walked by. “Won’t happen again.”

Aziraphale set his book down and squared his shoulders, clearing his throat. “I suppose when I grabbed your wrist, I accidentally triggered a memory from your time with -” he was still loath to say Gabriel’s name “- your time in Heaven. I do apologize.”

“Crowley was obviously uncomfortable, refusing to look at Aziraphale, rubbing his wrist as he stared out the window. But he didn’t get up and stalk away from the conversation or change the subject like he usually did, so Aziraphale continued.

“I was thinking, well, it might be helpful if you were to - shall we say, take back some of your power.”

“What  _ are _ you talking about?” Crowley sounded sneering and skeptical, but Aziraphale could hear genuine curiosity beneath the surface. 

“I mean, if you were exclusively giving, and not receiving, certain types of touch.”

“You can’t possibly be suggesting…” Crowley did not finish his sentence, his mouth hanging open. He was looking right at Aziraphale now.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale rested a hand on Crowley’s knee. “I’ve read that it can be empowering, for those who have, shall we say, been at another’s mercy, to experience a reversal of roles. A reclamation, if you will.”

“No, angel, that’s not - surely you don’t want - you don’t need to do that.” 

“Not only am I willing to do anything that might help you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with mischief in his tone, “but I actually think it might be rather fun.”

“Ngk,” said Crowley.

***

Crowley did not fully understand how an “eroticized power exchange,” as Aziraphale had put it, was supposed to help him stop falling apart over stupid little things, but the Aziraphale had been so excited, and Crowley would do anything to please his angel, to be better for him.

So here they were in the bedroom, after a brief but excruciating conversation during which Aziraphale tried to “negotiate boundaries” while a mute Crowley mostly nodded along, straining to follow anything the angel was saying. 

Sometimes it felt like he was underwater as the world swam by above him, and all he could hear was blood rushing in his ears as his consciousness floated away from his body.

_ Pay attention _ , he told himself, pinching the webbing between his fingers to bring himself back. 

Aziraphale was still talking, and Crowley pulled his lips into a smile, hoping it looked genuine - the muscles of his face seemed to belong not to him but to a puppet he was controlling, and it was stranger than anything to try and attempt facial expressions manually.

Aziraphale said something that ended in “alright, Crowley?” And then tilted his head to wait for an answer.

“Of course, angel. Sure thing.” Crowley wasn’t sure what he had just agreed to, but it definitely included Aziraphale, and the bedroom, and touching, so he was on board.

Aziraphale stripped then, for him, putting on a show  _ for him, _ and Crowley was overcome with love, with lust, with desire, with need.

Then the angel slinked over, draped himself over Crowley’s lap, and purred, “how do you want me?”

_ Any way. Every way. Forever. All the time. Want you, angel, wanted you for so long. _

All Crowley could do was gesture to the bed, and then Aziraphale was stretched out, lying across the bed like a cat. Crowley, too distracted to bother with actually undressing, snapped his fingers and then was naked too, crawling up the bed on hands and knees to hover over Aziraphale.

Aziraphale parted his lips and wiggled slightly under Crowley, signaling nothing but willingness.

Crowley felt frozen in place.

Aziraphale slid his hands under Crowley’s, and suddenly Crowley was holding the angel down, palm on palm, fingers interlocked. He felt the angel sink into the bed, surrendering to Crowley’s weight.

A strange sense of power rippled through Crowley. It had been so, so long since his body wasn’t the weakest in the room, since he’d had this kind of control, even simulated, over anyone.

_ Was this what it felt like, when he put his hands on me? _

Crowley bit his lip and stared at Aziraphale’s hands, pressed under his. 

_ This is fine. It’s just a game. It’s fun. _

_ Is it fun? _

_ Well Gabriel was certainly enjoying himself. _

Crowley clenched his jaw and tried to put thoughts of Gabriel out of his mind.

_ He’s trying so hard for you. Least you could do is put in the effort. _

Aziraphale was lying perfectly still and beaming up at him. “I’m all yours,” he said.

_ All yours. _

_ Mine. _

_ All mine. _

He’d heard those words before. Hated them. He knew what it was to be owned.

_ Focus up, _ Crowley told himself.  _ He doesn’t mean it like that. You’re his and he’s yours, right? That’s all this is. Just another way to belong to each other. _

Crowley leaned down, careful not to put too much weight on Aziraphale, and kissed him. He tried to make the kiss possessive, but it mostly felt like he was just poking his tongue around. Usually Aziraphale kissed him back, and it felt like a conversation, a give and take, movement and response. This felt like a monologue, like Crowley was standing beneath a harsh spotlight on a bare stage while Aziraphale sat and watched him make a fool of himself. 

Eventually Crowley lifted himself back up, then let go of Aziraphale’s hands and shifted so he was resting on his elbows and could play with Aziraphale’s hair. 

_ Just tug it a little, _ he told himself. 

He knew exactly how effective it would be. How helpless it felt to be led around by a painful grip at the back of his skull.

_ It’s not like that. Lots of people like this.  _

So why didn’t he? Was he so weak, had Gabriel really destroyed him so completely, that he couldn’t enjoy this? 

_ You’re a demon. You’ve been fantasizing about him for millennia. Come on.  _

Aziraphale made a small noise and Crowley realized he’d been staring into space for longer than was generally appropriate for the situation. He snapped himself back to the moment and met Aziraphale’s eyes, still searching for something to say, something to do.

Aziraphale got to it first. He parted his lips, batted his eyes, and said: “Do you want to fuck me?”

The only answer possible was: “Yes.”

Aziraphale spread his legs and arched his hips up in a fashion that could only be described as submissive.

Crowley made a noise that came from somewhere in his throat and was half arousal, half terror.

Aziraphale sat up a bit, looking worried. “Do you still want this, dear? It’s okay to stop.”

_ I don’t want him like this. Do I want him like this? _

“‘M fine,” Crowley said. He ran his hands down Aziraphale’s chest, and the angel took it as a sign to fall back, though Crowley hadn’t applied any pressure at all.

_ You’ve done this before. It’s no different. Permission to go a bit rougher, that’s all. Isn’t that what everyone like you wants? You should have been gagging for this opportunity. Now here it is, damnit. _

Crowley lowered himself and nipped at Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale turned his head, revealing more skin for Crowley to nibble. He breathed into Aziraphale’s ear and felt the angel’s whole body shiver.

He knew that shiver. The feeling of a hot exhale into the ear. Words whispered with threatening intimacy.

How many times had he wished to be in this place? Where he was the one with the roving hands, the pinned victim, the intoxicating control?

_ But I don’t want that anymore. I stopped dreaming about that long ago. _

Aziraphale raised his hands and ran loving fingers down Crowley’s back, subtly avoiding the hollow at the base of his spine.

_ And I never wanted it with him. _

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was steady. Grounding. It drew Crowley back to himself like a tether tossed into a stormy sea. “I think we ought to stop.”

“No, angel, really, I’m fine.”

“You’re hardly even here, my dear.” Aziraphale sat up, and Crowley could see the submissive posture run off him like so much rainwater. “Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea.”

Crowley didn’t want to stop. Not exactly.

“Maybe,” he mumbled, “maybe we could keep going, only just...as ourselves.”

“Of course, love.” Aziraphale reached out and pulled Crowley to him, kissing him, holding him, and Crowley curled into the embrace. His hand found Aziraphale’s cock and slid over it. He loved the weight and hardness of it. It felt right. It felt like home. 

Aziraphale held him, and together they rocked back and forth, drawing pleasure from and pouring pleasure into each other, until they were limp in each other’s arms, and Aziraphale settled Crowley down to sleep with sweet murmurs.

***

_ Coward _ , Crowley berated into the mirror the next morning.  _ What kind of a demon - Hell, what kind of a man - can’t even get it up to fuck his lover without needing to be babied through it? _

He rubbed his eyes and glared at his reflection. A pair of his sunglasses rested on the edge of the sink and he shoved them on, baring his teeth.

_ That’s more like it. That’s your old ferocious self. _

He opened the door and leaned in the doorway, channeling every bit of “dashing” and “dangerous” he’d ever had, plus some extra he forced himself to affect.

“Wanna have another go?”

Aziraphale put down his book and grinned. “Are you sure?”

“Oh I’m sure, angel,” Crowley said, sauntering forward. Aziraphale licked his lips and Crowley saw that doe-eyed look return to his face. 

_ He likes it. He wants it. You do too. Just stay here. Don’t think about anything else. _

“Well then,” Aziraphale said, shimmying himself back into the pillows so he was gazing up at Crowley. “Who am I to deny you?”

A distant echo of Gabriel’s voice sneering  _ you don’t tell me no _ sounded in Crowley’s head. He drowned out the thought with a snarl of his own, and he fell onto the bed, on top of Aziraphale, pulling at his clothes. 

Crowley’s hands were everywhere, roaming, claiming, and Aziraphale was like clay underneath him, pliable and soft. His thoughts tumbled in his mind like stones down a hillside.

_ He likes this and I like him, I love him, I want him, just let go and let the want take over, it’s okay to want him, you can have him. _

Kisses turned into bites, touches turned heavier, and Crowley felt himself falling into the feral passion of it all. Maybe he’d just needed his glasses. Or the light of the morning. A good night’s sleep. A pep talk. That’s all it was. 

Aziraphale was squirming and panting beneath him, and Crowley’s hands found his hole, slid one finger in, found it warm and inviting. The angel opened for him and he pressed another finger in, his ability to miracle lubricant like second nature at this point, and then he was ready, and Crowley’s cock was so hard, and he was fucking Aziraphale, harder and faster than he usually did, and he was drunk on it, on the taking, the having, the power of it all.

_ Yes, yes, this is it, this is what they mean, this is good, this is good. _

He felt the want overtake him, the would-not-be-denied, and there was an energy there, one he hadn’t felt in eons, maybe never.

Aziraphale made a noise, a new noise, a keening whining sound of overwhelm, of surrender -  _ was there pain there too? I know that sound -  _ but before Crowley could process it in his head it was shooting down his spine, it was between his legs, and he was coming, he was coming, and there was another sound, guttural and dominating, satisfied, and he knew that sound too -

that sound, the sound, all this noise _ \- heard this all before -  _ soft high whimpers and hard low grunts _ \- means it’s over, means this part’s over -  _ relief striped through with fear _ \- was that me, did i sound like that, sound like him -  _ it had felt so good -  _ did i hurt him did i like it _

Crowley pulled out of Aziraphale, a hand over his own mouth, and scrambled away, horror seizing him. He looked down at his naked, still-hard self, at Aziraphale’s thighs, spread on the bed, expecting to see blood. Aziraphale was saying something, his voice small and pleading, and Crowley knew how this went, one body looming and flushed with thrill, one body left spent and shaking - 

_ \- what have you done, you’re just like him after all, rough and hurting and liking it, he was right about you, filthy and bad, She was wrong about you, She was wrong and he was right, has this evil always been here or did he force it into you, is this what you are, is this what you wanted all along - _

He backed away, hands at his side, shaking, and he couldn’t hear anything over the screaming rushing pounding in his head. Hot tears ran down his face and Aziraphale came toward him and he couldn’t,  _ don’t, it’s not safe, i’m not safe, danger danger stop stop -  _

\- and he was in the bathroom again, back against the door, sat on the cold tile, visions of Gabriel’s cold eyes and Aziraphale’s sweet face swimming in his mind - 

_ \- so that’s what he felt like, that’s why he did it, now you know, can you blame him, you’re no better - _

\- there was a knocking on the door, a voice calling through to him, Aziraphale was there, but he shouldn’t be, couldn’t be,  _ didn’t he get it, didn’t he know, does he know how much i liked it, did he see the violet flash through my nasty eyes, doesn’t he know what’s there inside me, what i’m capable of -  _

“Get away from me!” Crowley shouted, slamming his fists backwards into the door.

It all went quiet. 

***

Aziraphale had no idea what had gone wrong, but it was clear that something had. He felt awful. The feelings rolling out from behind the closed bathroom door were thick with shame, anger, horror, and confusion.

“Crowley? Darling? Can I come in, please?”

“Get away from me!” 

Aziraphale backed away, stunned. What was going on? He stayed in the bedroom, trying to send nothing but calm and love through to Crowley. Eventually he felt Crowley’s rage subside and tendrils of loneliness and devastation started to flow through.

“Crowley,” he tried again. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

The only response was a rattling sob. Aziraphale decided to try the door. He’d already done plenty of harm by pushing Crowley into this, he might as well keep pushing and see if he could do anything to resolve it. 

Crowley was hunched on the floor, head on his knees, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His shoulders shook with his crying.

“My love,” Aziraphale said, sitting down and setting a hand on Crowley’s head. The demon pulled back, but it wasn’t his usual fearful flinch, more a controlled movement, as if he had to force himself to do it.

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale continued. “Clearly this wasn’t a good idea. I never should have -”

“I liked it,” came the choked response. 

Aziraphale didn’t think there was much evidence to support that claim, but he wasn’t about to argue. “That’s good, dear. You’re supposed to like it.”

Crowley shook his head vigorously. “No. Not like that. Not like...like him.”

Sick realization settled over Aziraphale. “You’re not like him, Crowley,” he said, hoping his touch and his words were reassuring. 

Crowley whimpered as if to say  _ I don’t believe you _ .

“I suppose,” Aziraphale said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “in a way, it all comes from the same place. To demand all desires be met, to have control over another - most beings do enjoy it in one form or another. Which isn’t wrong, necessarily.”

Crowley made another little sound of disagreement.

“What Gabriel did was inexcusable. But, I must admit, it’s not beyond the realm of imagination. He wasn’t some uniquely monstrous aberration. We’ve both seen plenty of humans go mad with power in much the same way.”

Crowley was crying again, pulled into himself, as if he could deny Aziraphale’s statements by hiding from them. Aziraphale just ran a hand over his back, did not try to coax him out of his curled position.

“I had thought - quite incorrectly, I now admit - that perhaps it would help you to reclaim some of that, to have some power of your own, to feel control that was stripped from you for so long.”

Crowley was nearly quaking now. “I don’t want it,” he said through tears. “I don’t want it. Don’t want to want it.”

“I know,” Azirpahale soothed. “I’m sorry.”

Crowley softened his posture, finally, leaning into Aziraphale. “Don’t wanna... _ be _ that,” he sniffled.

“And you aren’t,” Aziraphale said resolutely. “You’re nothing like him. Enjoying a bit of play doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s there,” Crowley countered. “In me. I know it is. Evil.”

Aziraphale was sure that wasn’t true. He guessed that whatever dark and vengeful fantasies Crowley had sustained himself on during his captivity were nothing compared to what Gabriel really deserved. And he remembered the mercy Crowley had shown, the lack of relish in the demon’s eyes at Gabriel’s suffering. 

He didn’t mention any of that. Instead, he placed one hand over the mark on Crowley’s chest, feeling the warm glow of their connection and Her love, calling all that truth forward to cover Crowley. 

“You know better than that,” he said. “I know better.  _ She _ knows better.”

Crowley’s breaths steadied a bit. Aziraphale kept talking. “You know who you really are. The choice you’ve made. The blessing She gave. It’s love, not hate; it’s healing, not violence.”

Crowley gave a tentative nod, the one Aziraphale knew by now meant  _ I want to believe what you're saying, I’m trying to believe you, but the best I can do for now is let you believe it for both of us.  _

“Alright,” Aziraphale said. “This floor is getting cold, don’t you think? Let’s get ourselves back into bed.” He stood and held his arm down for Crowley, who didn’t resist, just rose shakily and stumbled after him. 

The sight of the rumpled bedsheets seemed to deflate Crowley. “I’m sorry, angel,” he said, collapsing into bed and hiding his face in a pillow. “I tried.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said, wrapping himself around Crowley and tossing a blanket over both of them. “You’re trying so hard. I’m so proud of you.”

Aziraphale ran a thumb down Crowley’s cheek, erasing the tear streaks, then kissed him. 

_ I’ll never ask that of you again, _ Aziraphale promised silently.  _ I should never have pushed you into that place, that part of your mind that scares you so. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, love. I only ever want you safe, happy, here, with me.  _

Crowley smiled and closed his eyes, nuzzling closer to Aziraphale. He slept, then, and Aziraphale watched him sleep, wondering at the mysteries still lurking behind those gorgeous eyes, the twisting labyrinth they were trying to navigate together. He was grateful they’d made it through this wrong turn, and committed as ever to finding a path out of the dark places Gabriel had carved out inside Crowley’s mind. Aziraphale knew he could not solve this all for Crowley, but he would always be here, calling down light, seeking the safe ways, helping map the strange terrain, and holding Crowley’s hand as he fought his way forward.

**Author's Note:**

> DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME! Aziraphale is not a trauma-informed therapeutic professional! Trying to treat trauma symptoms with BDSM is generally unwise! Do not try and negotiate, let alone start, a scene while you or your partner is dissociating! Enjoying D/s play does not make one evil or at all like an abuser!
> 
> These are choices and situations I chose for the characters to maximize angst - this is not a good example of responsible BDSM or trauma work. Aziraphale is trying his best but he's being very clueless and Crowley is not helping either of them.
> 
> The song title is taken from "Power Over Me" by Dermot Kennedy, which is an excellent song for the Aziraphale/Crowley dynamics here. Plus it has a bit of a double meaning. Crowley is fighting so hard to make it so Gabriel is no longer the "king in his story," but he has a ways to go.
> 
> I wanna be king in your story  
I wanna know who you are  
I want your heart to beat for me  
Oh I want you to sing to me softly  
'Cause then I'm outrunning the dark  
That's all that love ever taught me
> 
> Call and I'll rush out  
All out of breath now  
You've got that power over me (my my)  
Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes  
You've got that power over me (my my)  
The only one I know, the only one on my mind  
You've got that power over me (my my)
> 
> So we'll hide away and never tell  
You decide if darkness knows you well  
That lesson of love, all that it was  
I need you to see  
You've got that power over me (my my)  
Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes


End file.
